rain rain go away
by pumpkinpickles
Summary: Takumi gets caught in the rain and it's terrible, but at least his favourite cashier is there for a quick pick-me-up. (in which Takumi and Yukihira are prodigies in their own rights that gave up on themselves for one reason or another - but turned their lives around because of each other (unknowingly).) [soutaku; au]


The weather bureau's cheery mascot mocks Takumi from his phone screen, beaming "a sunny 35°C, don't forget your sunblock!".

Takumi despondently looks down at the quickly gathering water at his feet, ears drowning in the sound of rainfall pelting down.

Sunny indeed.

He pockets his phone and hastens his steps; this inclined path was not doing his leather shoes any favours.

Takumi barely bites back a yelp when a gust of wind crashes into him full force. He stumbles back a step, then two, and catches himself just in time to prevent his untimely demise onto the muddy pavement.

His umbrella is not so lucky and snaps cleanly in half, accepting its end swiftly.

During a brief moment of sheer upset, Takumi considers screaming in frustration, but the heavy rain convinces him to start running instead. This doesn't stop him from glaring at his umbrella in disbelief for the betrayal as he stuffs it into his chest to reduce wind resistance

Speaking of things to protect. Takumi clutches his briefcase closer to his chest, muttering a short curse at how absolutely _soaked_ it felt. Thank god he'd moved on from hand written drafts to thumbdrives and technology. He might just kill himself if the final draft of his book was ruined from something as stupid as faulty weather reporting.

Amidst the storm, Takumi can make out a dimly blinking '24/7' sign. An arm shielding his face from the rain, he sprints as fast as his already burning calves can take him.

The welcome jingle of his apartment's corner minimart has never sounded more welcoming.

He does suck in a chilled breath when the blast of air conditioning hits his very wet back, however.

Takumi navigates the store with speedy ease, snatching two towels off a rack close to the automated door, and making his way to the register immediately. He slaps it down on the counter along with his briefcase, and he would have apologised for the unnecessarily sour attitude if it wasn't for the fact that he recognised the redhead behind the counter.

Too many late night trips to the minimart during the past year - whether it be a genuine need for something or just to get a breather from his work - had familiarised Takumi with him.

"Bad day?"

Takumi blinks the water from out his eyes, and smiles tiredly at Yukihira.

"Just the weather."

And that was _true._ Takumi had been having the best day of his life, prior to this.

Doujima-sensei had informed him that his comeback debut novel was selling like hotcakes, and its sequel's draft Takumi had brought today was right on track - just a few chapter revisions and finalising a few administration matters, and off to the printing press it would go.

Then the sudden downpour had started, turning Takumi's forty minute uphill trek from the cafe back home into a desperate dash.

So now Takumi was left stranded and feeling like an old dishrag in his drenched peacoat and soaked leather shoes. Which, he had thankfully sent for weather proofing. He still had the possible loss of a good coat to mourn, however.

At least his hairdo was still intact. Takumi briefly slides a hand over his slicked back bangs, admiring the gel's handiwork. Isami always did have a better eye for beauty products.

As Takumi thinks about how this would save him time later, he misses the way Yukihira swallows a little too hard at the movement and slips on the keys of the register.

"It's really pouring out there, huh?" Yukihira says, quickly ringing up Takumi's purchases.

"Yeah, I could tell." Takumi rolls his eyes, and Yukihira responds with a laugh. Takumi pays in exact - he always does, when Yukihira is behind the counter. It'd become a silly little routine that Takumi was trying to see how long he could keep up.

Yukihira has the graciousness to rip open the packaging of one of the towels, handing it to a very grateful Takumi.

Takumi dries his face off first, then quickly wipes his neck. Yukihira leans on the counter with crossed elbows, tilting his head to one side, watching.

"No umbrella?" Yukihira asks.

Takumi wordlessly holds up his broken contraption. Yukihira's eyes crinkle in a wordless laugh.

"That's some real bad luck, Takumi. Wanna get another one?" He tilts his head to the other side, where a rack of portable umbrellas are arranged along the side of the wall, next to the newspapers.

"No thanks. I don't think it'll do much good now." Takumi sighs, rubbing his hands in the warm cloth.

"I was gonna ask about a raincoat but it seems your coat is a pretty good _rain_ -coat at this point." Yukihira grins.

"Ha ha." Takumi throws the towel in Yukihira's face, and it smacks him with a satisfyingly wet sound. Yukihira makes a faux dying noise, before removing the towel.

"Then how about some oden? We just got a batch fresh." Yukihira pushes himself upright, putting the towel into a plastic bag, along with Takumi's other purchase.

Takumi's stomach decides to growl in a timely fashion. He flushes beet red, while Yukihira grabs a pair of tongs and sing songs, "Yes it is!"

"Thanks." Takumi replies, pressing a hand against the warm glass display, where a row of split containers with assortments of ingredients bobbing in hot soup seat behind. "I was thinking of grabbing a snack before - _oh shoot_ , I hope the florists' is still open."

"Florist?" Souma looks up for a moment, stirring the soup with the ladle.

"Yeah. I need to pick up a bouquet." Takumi smiles.

"For?" Souma scoops a hearty amount of soup and carefully pours it into a paper bowl.

"I'm going to a recital later." Takumi explains. "It's...an important performance to me, and I wanted to give the pianist something to show that. I mean, not that i'll be able to hand it to them directly, with how performances generally work. I have a friend who knows them, so they promised to do me this favour."

Erina had been surprisingly forward about it too. Something about helping Hisako with a few favours a while back, so this would be the least she could do for all the help Takumi had given her wife.

It was an incredibly uplifting offer, especially at a time when Takumi was still trying to brush the whole incident with name fabrications, ghostwriters and Mimasaka off his back.

To be able to thank the person whose music had encouraged Takumi out of his depressive slump was the only reason he had worked so hard to make his next novel a bestseller like it had become.

"That's sweet. Did you get a good seat? Where is it?" Yukihira says, while handing Takumi his cup of oden. A few wooden skewers have already been stuck into the bowl, and Takumi takes the cup gratefully.

"Mmm. I got one in the middle, row L seat 17." Takumi lifts a fishcake out, taking a bite. Quickly, he devours at least half of the cup's contents before speaking again. "So this rain is really a downer. I still have to change, too."

Yukihira stretches his arms above his head, then twists his torso to look at the clock behind him. "When's it start?"

"Eight. But someone's picking me up at six forty, so I have to hurry." Takumi blows on a piece of radish before taking a bite.

"Eh, there's still another hour and half, you'll be fine." Souma dismissively waves, and a part of Takumi agrees, but the more paranoid half screeches at him from the back of his mind.

"Still." Takumi jabs at a piece of konnyaku, lifts it out of the cup and frowns at it. "Hey Yukihira, want it?"

"You don't like konnyaku?" Yukihira asks, though he's quick to lean over the counter with his mouth open.

"I'll eat it if I have to." Takumi says, popping the triangular piece into Souma's mouth. He tries not to stare at Yukihira's lips. "But I don't really like it."

Yukihira nods, chewing. Meanwhile, Takumi drinks the rest of the soup in one long gulp.

"Okay, i've got to go." Takumi quickly tosses the empty cup into a bin nearby, stuffing his broken umbrella in afterwards. "But first." He opens his wallet to pay for the oden, and realises a little sadly he doesn't have change anymore.

He hands Yukihira a ten dollar bill, listening to the clacks of the register as it swings open and the clatter of coins as Yukihira quickly takes out change.

Yukihira's fingers are warm as they press the coins into Takumi's chilled palm. Takumi resists the urge to hold the hand a little longer.

"See you around." Yukihira says, voice somehow softer than usual. Takumi gives in to the momentary urge, and squeezes Yukihira's hand briefly, before moving his hand to shove the change into his pocket.

Grabbing his briefcase, Takumi flashes Yukihira a smile as the turns to leave. "See you."

Yukihira raises his hand in goodbye, and smiles brightly back.

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you only arrived half an hour before your own recital!"

Erina's aggravated voice is only partially blocked, with Yukihira's childish attempt at covering his ears with both hands.

"I arrived before the performance, it's fine!" Yukihira tries to reason, and he thinks he hears something in Erina snap when he does.

"Even so - !" Erina extends her arm, smacking Yukihira in the chest with a sheaf of papers. Yukihira recognises the hasty scribbles of musical notes as the one he'd handed to his manager just prior.

"What is the meaning of suddenly adding another piece into the performance? A new one, too!" Erina leafs through the sheets, scanning the piece. "And the title! 'That feel when you see your crush drenched in the rain ten out of ten'? It's not even spelt out!"

Her hands are shaking with pure fury now. "Souma, this is your comeback recital! You can't just keep changing things like this!"

Yukihira blinks quietly. He takes in Erina's stiff form, her contorted expression, and feels his soften in response. He rubs her head, careful not to mess up her hair too much.

"Thanks for worrying about me, Erina. But it'll all go okay. If it's that piece, i'll be fine." Yukihira looks off to the side, towards the curtains that part the wings from the stage.

Somewhere beyond that maroon drapery, past the lights and amongst the darkness of the hushed audience, a certain blond will seat, arms full of odd blooms.

Erina heaves out a submissive sigh. "...I know. I'm the one who knows your potential best, after all." The statement is almost grudging.

Yukihira shoots his original co-debuter a winning grin. Erina returns it with a haughty sniff.

"If you don't mind me asking, though…," Erina trails off, waiting for Yukihira's nod of approval before continuing. "What made you decide to return? After all this time, and everything that happened…." Erina ends off uneasily.

Unconsciously, Yukihira moves his left hand over his right. Then he brings his hands up, spreading his fingers out before him. The scar that runs unevenly down from the joint between his third right finger and fourth and odd splotches of discoloured skin on both hands stare back at him.

The warmth from the brief squeeze before still lingers.

"This is my eulogy to mother." Yukihira begins softly. "And also," He shifts his weight onto one foot, so he can peer past the curtains and comb through the audience to mid-row L, seat 17. Upon seeing a familiar blond head, he smiles. "I found my muse again."

"Does it have anything to do with this book of yours you had me bring?" Erina grabs the book she'd placed earlier on a spare music stand, and thumps it gently against Yukihira's still outstretched arm.

Yukihira takes it, and thumbs to the very first page.

 _'Dedicated to Souma; for gifting me with music that became my reason to try again'_

Just then, Shinomiya's loud, singular clap rings out through the backstage.

"Five minutes before we go on!" He instructs, a loud reminder for any lollygaggers.

Erina immediately reaches out to straighten Yukihira's lapels, and snatches the book from his hands. She looks him directly in the eyes, all previous playfulness gone.

"Do it for them."

Yukihira nods, a professional smile pinned to his face.

"Of course."

And that's the last thing Yukihira has time to say, before he's ushered towards the stage and met with stadium lights and the roar of applause once more.


End file.
